


sweet dreams ( & angel wings )

by Falling_Leaves_Autumn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Dreams, Dreamwalker Castiel, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Panic Attacks, Supernatural Elements, i have no idea where this story is going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 15:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falling_Leaves_Autumn/pseuds/Falling_Leaves_Autumn
Summary: Castiel, the socially anxious Dreamwalker, sets out on a journey with his cousin to hunt down the ever elusive Dean Winchester, a stranger with whom his dreams have often been centred around.He must find him before it’s too late.It’s the first time he’s had an early warning from fate, and he’s not going to screw it up. All he’s scraped together is a first name and a childhood of impermanence, but it’s enough to save a life. It has to be.





	sweet dreams ( & angel wings )

**Author's Note:**

  * For [all the lost dreamwalkers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=all+the+lost+dreamwalkers).



> disclaimer: hi! i love spn and this is the product of that love for every character. especially cas and dean. the characters aren’t mine but the plot idea is. 
> 
> this idea came to me when i was in the kitchen. we have dream catchers hanging above the diningroom table, and the white feathers reminded me of angel wings. and so, here is the string once tugged at on one end.
> 
> REMINDER: I WILL ADD WARNING TAGS AS I PROGRESS THROUGH THIS FIC. 
> 
> just to make one thing clear: castiel is a Dreamwalker, by my definition. it means he involuntarily visits people’s dreams when he falls asleep. the person whose dream he is in cannot sense his presence and is unaware of him. castiel has been having recurring dreams about dean, and his dreams are often premonitions for death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, it’s only 2k words but the chapters will vary in lengths. the next one will be 4k and the one after might be 3k or 5k depending on my mood and the storyline. 
> 
> ALSO i have exams today and this week and next week, so i might update in a little while or in-between since this is a WIP.
> 
> & please leave comments & kudos, i thrive off of them like all writers :) they’re my source of inspo. alsoalso, idk anything about America since i live in Aus, so i’m just gonna write this on what the internet tells me... 
> 
> enjoy!

* * *

“Of course it’s exhausting, having to reason all the time in a universe which wasn’t meant to be reasonable.”

__ \- Kurt Vonnegut _ _

* * *

 

Chapter I: Great Escape

The sky was a mix of sunset orange and fiery red; the white clouds might as well have been painted over as an afterthought, smudged over the surface of an ethereal masterpiece. From the window, the scene looked as if it belonged in one of the many copies of the fairy tale books stacked on the living room table.

The weather forecaster habitually listing off the conditions later in the night was cut short in the middle of his broadcast by Castiel muting the TV.

Castiel, who sat in his favourite velveteen chair, flipped another page of the dog-eared book propped precariously on his knee. It was a wonder that the book didn’t topple over, then again nothing in his life could be reasoned with.

Upon seeing another dog-ear cornering the page, he released an annoyed sigh and slammed the book shut, tossing it on the couch beside him. He wiped his sticky fingers on the front of his shirt and growled.

The door opened at the end of the room. Castiel directed his frustration towards Gabriel in the form of a hot glare. His cousin arched an eyebrow at his expression and shrugged, tilting his head to read the title of the newest addition to the ever-growing pile of books on the couch. 

“I found ‘ _ A Brief History of Dreams in Ancient Cultures _ ’ quite fascinating.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “It was, until you spilled honey all over the cover and folded every page at least three times compulsively. Dog-earing books is a malefaction, it’s downright absurd. Every academic scholar and English major would concur with my statement.”

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows, and in an overly sultry voice, said, “ _ ooh _ , don’t talk dirty, Cassie. It makes me all  _ hot _ and  _ bothered _ .”

“Shut up!”

He grabbed a pillow off the ground and hurled it in his general direction, intending for it to hit him in the face. He could hear Gabriel guffawing in the distance as he set off to order them takeout—the closest they could get to delicacy without anyone burning the kitchen down.

When his cousin was gone, he picked up another book off the glass coffee table and laid it on his lap. He wasn’t even a hundred percent sure what he was hoping to find in the various scholarly journals, fantasy children’s books and documents that Gabriel had acquired through ingenious means. 

There was no guarantee these books held any information worth reading. He clung to the desperate belief that if he skimmed through as many articles and research papers as he could, he’d find a solution to the problem that had arisen over the last few months.

It started over two months ago. He hadn’t told Gabriel the whole story, only the basics concerning the mysterious man in his dreams, but it was enough to have him on board.

He was surprised by Gabriel’s willingness to go on a road trip with him in search of ‘Dean’, a stranger with forest green eyes and freckles climbing his cheekbones, like unnamed constellations overlooking a desert. He was a unique combination; with his shy smiles and confident body language.

Unfortunately, the only things Castiel knew about him were his forename, appearance and the fact that he worked with cars, which made it hard to track him down using the internet or police database.

In the end, Castiel decided to find the needle in the haystack no matter the cost. He compiled two different lists. The first was a list of states to visit with geographical locations such as major towns, and the second was a list of corresponding automobile businesses within each state. 

The reason for that is a few of Dean’s dreams that he’d visited were set in the same garage. He recognised the layout as that of a car garage, where people went to get their coils cleaned or engines replaced. Because of that, they were starting off with automobile garages.

They would start their trip tomorrow at the top of the list, which had been ordered so that they followed a clear line across the country. There were over six hundred registered automobile shops across the forty-eight states he’d written down. It was a tedious journey and would probably take close to three months but Castiel had an inkling that nothing bad would happen within that time frame.

What concerned him more was what occurred after the three months were up, in the event that they hadn’t found Dean. 

He shuddered at the thought and shook it off. He promised himself he wouldn’t give up until Dean was safe and sound within the coming months.

Unfolding the map inside his coat, Castiel pressed on the creases to flatten them out. He touched Florida on the magnified map of America, where they were currently. 

They’d flown straight here from Washington to start their road trip, using the trust funds that had been set up as an insurance. Castiel had never laid his hands on his account before a week ago. Now he was constantly taking money out to fund their journey  _ because _ he had a good reason to. He wouldn’t touch those accounts if he wasn’t desperate—and right now he was a man in a desert, trying to find a drop of water while trapped in oasis.

Miami seemed like the most reasonable place to start, then Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, West Virginia, Virginia… the list went over forty-eight states until they would eventually end up back in Washington if it was a failure. It was the perfect plan. 

He skimmed the surface of the map with his index finger, tracing out the imaginary lines he’d memorised. The original copy of the map was three times the size of this and taped to the back of his trunk, littered with thumb tacks and multi-coloured push pins. One could say they were stalking Dean, and one would hope the police never apprehended their vehicle. 

Castiel reminded himself to teach Gabriel later to practice a statement for any confrontation with the police. They would lie that they were on a road trip in search of their inner beings and soulful musings. Merely artists with too much paint and not enough inspiration.

He’d pass himself off as a literary genius, mastering the art of dreams to write an application piece for his journalistic career. Just another unknown name in the piles of fake John Appleseed identification cards. 

Years ago he perfected the art of being invisible; now he must put it to good use for the sake of Dean. For Dean’s sake. Because if he doesn’t, then something bad will happen to an innocent, just like all the others. 

Like Anna. Balthazar.

Dropping the map on the ground, Castiel sunk into the chair, gripping the front of his shirt over his heart. His chest was tight with unbridled panic and fear, tangible enough for it to snake around his lungs.

He needed to stop thinking about them. Or at least learn to let it go. His mind traitorously whispered that he didn’t deserve to be happy when he had the power to change things before they happened.

The door creaked open. He took in a deep breath like a drowning man taking his first breath of air. There was a hand on his shoulder which he shrugged off, and pulled himself together. 

He met Gabriel’s whiskey-brown eyes that were staring at him with worry. 

“You good?” 

“Mhm,” Castiel said, breathing evenly. “The realisation of what we’re going to do tomorrow hit me. I’m thoroughly prepared but it’s still a pinnacle for us.” He was lying but Gabriel didn’t need to know that. Nor did he need to know that he still blamed himself for what had happened a few years ago. 

Lock and key, he’d promised himself. Shove all of it under lock and key, no matter how unhealthy it was. Everyone fared better that way.

Gabriel touched his forearm briefly and stood up, moving back two steps to perch himself on the arm of the love seat across from him. 

“Jeez Castiel, all this for one man. You must have the hots.” Gabriel was teasing him, clearly, but he couldn’t help the way his teeth grit together.

“Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m sexually attracted to everything that has two legs and a dick,” he said snappily, dipping down to pick the map off the ground. 

“I’d hope not.” Gabriel pulled a face of disgust and Castiel felt like throwing a thickset book at him for what he was hinting at.

“And you already know why I’m doing this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Gabriel said affirmatively, picking at his nails with a grimace. There was dried glue all over his hands from the papers he’d been putting together earlier for their passports. Some state lines you just couldn’t cross in a Jeep with hopes that they wouldn’t notice you. Most of the time you needed to provide identification and the relevant papers.

Castiel ran a finger along the red line again. It calmed his nerves looking at a physical representation of their unknown destination. “I know you were worried about my anxiety but I’ll be fine, Gabe. I need to do this or…”

Gabriel didn’t push him to finish his train of thought. They both knew the outcome of another familiar name and face in the news. 

The first time it’d happened had been more than enough. The second and third and even the eighth time had all felt exactly like the first. The band-aid was never any easier to rip off no matter the size of the wound, it was never any easier to live with, but they kept going because it was the least they could do for those that they were unable to save.

Sometimes Castiel wished he wasn’t born at all if he was cursed to have this ability. While Gabriel saw it as a blessing disguised as a curse, he never grew to love what it meant for his life.  

He feared getting into a relationship and one day visiting his partner’s dream; but unable to warn them, stuck behind a sheet of one way glass, fists pounding relentlessly against it in a futile attempt at saving a beloved soul. Sometimes he didn’t want to know someone was going to die, it made it a little more bearable thinking he couldn’t do anything about it.

When he knew someone’s death was drawing close, it filled him with helplessness. With responsibility, and God knows Castiel was fully responsible for every death on the news.

It was one reason he didn’t dare start a meaningful relationship or settle down. The fear chained him enough that he learnt to keep his own desire at bay. Dreamwalking was the collar around his neck that nobody could see, and only he could feel the weight of it. 

“You do you, little bro.”  

Castiel didn’t correct the term of endearment. They might as well have been brothers with the way they grew up stuck at the hip. Well, until Gabriel ran away and went radio silent for five years. They were slowly learning to overcome those missing years but that was a can of worms he’d open another time.

“Have you packed everything we need?”

He folded the map and tucked it in the pocket of his trench coat, patting it one more time before removing his hand. 

“I packed everything we needed fifty days ago,” Gabriel said dryly. He unwrapped a lollipop from inside his pocket, grinned at the hard red candy, and popped it in his mouth.

“Just checking.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. The static hum of the television was cancelled out by the mute being turned off. A woman’s voice filled the room—she was raving on about the increase in the number of fast food chains opening up all over the state. Castiel wondered if she liked her life and job. It seemed so  _ normal _ .

“You think you’ll Dreamwalk dear ol’ Deano tonight?” 

His hand subconsciously slipped back into his pocket, thumbing the edge of the rough paper.

“I hope not,” he murmured, more to himself than anything. “I really hope not.”

Because Dreamwalking was a death omen and Castiel didn’t want Dean to die.


End file.
